


Secret Smiles

by PsychoLeopard



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Castes, Crossroads of Twilight, F/M, Kidnapping, Knife of Dreams, Mat has no idea, Slavery, The Seanchan are generally not-nice, Tuon's pov, Why is Tuon smiling?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoLeopard/pseuds/PsychoLeopard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The very last thing Tuon was expecting when she arrived to oversee the Return was to be kidnapped by a ruffian. But she is adaptable, and poised, and maybe just a tiny bit intrigued. Follows CoT, KoD from Tuon's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: CoT onwards, from Tuon's pov. Like many, I am very intrigued by the Mat-Tuon storyline, and wish there was more. I will be polishing as I post this on AO3.

# Secret Smiles

### Chapter 1: A Promise

The High Lady Tuon tried to remain interested in her book. She tried to pretend she was not in a cramped wagon with two other women, dressed in what might as well have been a sack, not even allowed to see daylight. She tried to pretend she was not bothered by the whispers Setalle had brought her. She _would_ remain true to the course she had chosen. However uncomfortable she might be, and however much she doubted that the destination could be all that was promised.

She looked up when the door opened, and the source of her discomfort entered. He was handsome enough, she supposed, but he looked different than he had in the palace. He was dressed much plainer, for certain, and missing both his silk scarf and his signet ring. She still did not know why he had taken her. Not really. He had been intending to leave her in the stables, until Selucia let slip that she was the Daughter of the Nine Moons. That had been what changed his mind, she was certain of it. And then he named her his wife, three times, as in the ceremony. She still couldn't say what her answer would be, or even if he knew he had asked the question. But why would he have spoken so in the first place? Enough. She would not let him put her off balance. She was who she was, and she could still control herself, and Selucia.

“Setalle has been keeping me informed. She’s told me the story you have put about concerning me, Toy,” Tuon informed him coolly.

“My name is Mat.”

As if that was at all pertinent to her grievance! Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest projectile she could reach: a pottery cup. She threw it at his head, and had the pleasure of seeing him drop to the floor hastily. But that wasn’t enough for her.

“I am a _servant,_ Toy?” she demanded as coldly as she knew how. Ooh, but that made her want to hand him to the Seekers. “A _thieving_ servant?” She stood, disregarding the book as it slid to the floor, and reached for the chamber pot. “A _faithless_ servant?” As if she could possibly be any one of those three things! The nerve! The gall! The utter lack of respect!

“We will need that,” Selucia explained as she took the chamber pot away. Then she set herself at Tuon’s feet, ready to attack the man at a word.

Setalle handed her another cup from the shelf. “We have plenty of these.”

Alright, they had a point. Tuon pretended not to see the look Toy shot at Setalle.

Someone thumped on the door. “Do you need help in there?”

“We have everything well in hand,” Setalle called, calmly taking up her embroidery again. “Go on about your work. Don’t dawdle.”

Tuon had to fight not to smile. She looked down at the painted cup, turning it over as if the answers to all her questions lay written among the flowers. The man might think he was in charge, but if he thought that, she would quickly teach him otherwise. “I will not be a servant, Toy.” She used a perfectly reasonable tone, merely making a statement.

“My name is Mat, not…that other thing,” he said as he stood.

Tuon thought about throwing the cup at him, but he was continuing. “I could hardly tell the showfolk I’d kidnapped the Daughter of the Nine Moons.” He sounded exasperated, on edge. Good. Let her be a burr under his saddle. How a horseman handled a fractious mount could reveal much about his character. Failing that, it would at least be amusing.

“The High Lady Tuon, peasant! She is under the veil!” Selucia informed him fiercely.

Tuon moved her hand in a gesture laden with meaning. LET IT BE. CHOOSE BATTLES WISELY. “It is of no import, Selucia. He is ignorant, yet. We must educate him. But you will change this story, Toy. I will not be a servant.” The very idea was preposterous.

“It’s too late to change anything,” Toy protested. “Nobody’s asking you to be a servant. I couldn’t leave you behind to raise an alarm. I know Mistress Anan has explained it to you.” He paused as if about to say more, then said only, “I know she’s already told you this, but I promise no one’s going to hurt you. We’re not after ransom, just getting away with our heads still attached. As soon as I can figure out how to send you home safe and sound, I will. I promise. I’ll make you as comfortable as I can until then. You’ll just have to put up with the other.”

What he said made some sense, at least. “It seems I will see what your promises are worth, Toy.” Selucia hissed, but Tuon hushed her with another hand signal. She knew what she was doing, or more precisely, trying to do.

“Answer me a question, Tuon.”

She waited.

“How old are you?”

 _How dare he!_ She straightened and put on her imperial face as she recited, “My fourteenth true-name day will come in five months.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the heat from her voice. She noted the change in his expression, and realized she needed to clarify. “No; you keep your birth names here, don’t you. That will be my twentieth naming day. Are you satisfied, Toy? Did you fear that you had stolen a…child?” What sort of thoughts were going through his head?

He waved his hands frantically as if to ward off her anger. “I just wanted to know, that’s all,” he lied. “I was curious, making conversation. I’m only a little older myself.”

Tuon studied him. He was unlikely to explain now, after lying. The man would try her patience to the limit. She tossed the cup she had almost forgotten about onto the bed and sat carefully. Her current attire required no such gentleness. Some habits were hard to break. She looked him over briefly, then asked, “Where is your ring?”

She saw his hand react unconsciously, and almost smiled. “I don’t wear it all the time,” he explained. He moved to sit on the bed, but Selucia slid onto it swiftly. Setalle obviously had no intention of moving over, so he was left to lean against a cabinet. When he slouched, Tuon frowned. He should not act so at ease in her presence. Then he had the temerity to grin!

Tuon breathed out very slowly, holding her temper for all she was worth. Remembering something, she asked almost absently, “Do you remember Hawkwing’s face, Toy?” Neither Setalle nor Selucia understood why she would ask such a question, but she concentrated on Toy.

She was certain his face froze. His eyes seemed very far away, as if he was seeing something beyond the wagon. And he took entirely too long to answer. Any man would have answered immediately after getting over his surprise. Mat did not look surprised so much as caught.

He took a deep breath before finally answering with very careful words. “Of course I don’t! Light, Hawkwing died a thousand years ago! What kind of question is that?”

As she opened her mouth, she considered and discarded a dozen possible replies. What _was_ he hiding? “A foolish one, Toy. I can’t say why it popped into my head.”

He seemed to accept her answer. “My name is Mat. Mat Cauthon.”

She ignored him. “I cannot say what I will do after returning to Ebou Dar, Toy. I have not decided. I may have you made _da’covale._ You are not pretty enough for a cupbearer, but it might please me to have you for one. Still, you have represented certain promises to me, so it pleases me now to promise, as well. So long as you keep your promises, I will neither escape nor betray you in any way, nor will I cause dissension among your followers. I believe that covers everything necessary.” She fell silent and waited for his reply. She had no doubts how he would choose.

He made a small pained sound, and swallowed, before saying, “Well, that does all right for you, but what about Selucia?”

“Selucia follows my wishes, Toy,” Tuon said. Why did he wait?

She was surprised when he spat in his palm and expected her to shake it.

“Your customs are…earthy,” she told him dryly, before spitting in her palm and taking his hand. “‘Thus is our treaty written; thus is agreement made.’ What does that writing on your spear mean, Toy?”

She didn’t know why her question should make him whimper. It seemed a strange thing to do.

Someone knocked on the door, and Toy spun. Knives appeared in his hands from nowhere. “Stay behind me.”

Tuon had to admire his reflexes. Some of the Deathwatch could not match him for reaction speed. The protective instinct could likewise be useful, if it was controlled properly.

The door opened, and a white-haired old man entered. “I trust I’m not interrupting anything?”

Mat’s face turned the most glorious shade of red as he slid the knives back up his sleeves. “What did you find out, Thom?”

“The streets are full of rumors about her,” Thom—Merrilin--replied with a nod towards Tuon, “but nothing about her disappearing. I bought drinks for a few Seanchan officers, and they seem to believe she’s snug in the Tarasin Palace or off on an inspection trip. I didn’t sense any dissembling, Mat. They didn’t know.”

She could hardly believe this. He must truly be ignorant of the Empire, if he expected rumors of her kidnapping. “Did you expect public announcements, Toy? As it is, Suroth may be considering taking her own life for the shame. Do you expect her to spread such an ill omen for the Return about for everyone to see on top of that?”

“There’s more, Mat,” Merrilin said, with a strange look for Tuon. “Tylin’s dead. They’re keeping it quiet for fear of disturbances, but one of the Palace Guards, a young lieutenant who couldn’t hold his brandy, told me they’re planning her funeral feast and Beslan’s coronation for the same day.”

That might present a minor problem for the Return. Only a minor one, of course.

“How?” Toy demanded. Tuon glanced at him. He had been involved with Tylin. She knew that much. Her pet, her toy. She wondered what affection might have been between them.

Merrilin hesitated before replying. “She was found in her bedchamber the morning after we left, Mat, still bound hand and foot. Her head….Her head had been torn off.”

Toy’s knees gave way and he hit the floor. He looked lost. “The Windfinders?”

“According to what that lieutenant said, the Seanchan have settled on Aes Sedai for the blame. Because Tylin had sworn the Seanchan oaths. That’s what they’ll announce at her funeral feast.”

“Tylin dies the same night the Windfinders escape, and the Seanchan believe the Aes Sedai killed her? That doesn’t make sense, Thom.” He sounded only half aware. Tuon had seen men in shock before. It was as if Toy had taken a physical blow to the head, rather than mere grim tidings.

“It could be political, in part, but I think that’s what they really believe, Mat,” Merrilin offered. “That lieutenant said they’re sure the Windfinders were running too hard to stop or go out of their way, and the quickest path out of the palace from the damane kennels goes nowhere near Tylin’s apartments.”

Mat grunted, apparently unconvinced. Tuon directed Selucia with hand gestures to speak.

“The _marath’damane_ had reason to murder Tylin. They must fear her example for others. What reason had the _damane_ you speak of? None. The hand of justice requires motive and proof, even for _damage_ and _da’covale._ ”

Tuon’s hands stilled as Mat looked her way. She didn’t know why it was important that he not see her speak with them. “Did you care for Tylin so deeply?” she asked cautiously, aware that this might cause him pain. She had to know, because the answer would affect the way their situation played out. Was he capable of affection and loyalty? Had he offered as much to her while still so attached to Tylin?

“Yes. No. Burn me, I _liked_ her!” He turned away from her, pushing his hat off. “And I left her tied up and gagged so she couldn’t even call for help, easy prey for the _gholam,”_ he added. “It was looking for me. Don’t shake your head. Thom. You know it as well as I do.”

What was this? “What is a… _gholam?”_ Tuon inquired.

“Shadowspawn, my Lady,” Merrilin replied. He showed proper respect, at least. “It looks like a man, but it can slip through a mousehole, or under a door, and it’s strong enough to….Well, enough of that. Mat, she could have had a hundred guards around her, and it wouldn’t have stopped that thing.”

What he described could not be so. It sounded like a story to frighten children. “A gholam,” she murmured. She rapped Mat’s head to draw his attention back to her. “I’m very happy that you show loyalty to Tylin, Toy,” and she was, though she didn’t want to think too much about why, “but I won’t have superstition in you. I will not have it. It does Tylin no honor.” He hardly seemed to hear or appreciate her comment.

Someone knocked on the door again, but Toy failed to react this time. A strange man entered rudely and ignored all but Toy. “Joline wants you, Cauthon.”

Tuon was surprised by the spurt of jealousy. “Who is Joline?”

Toy seemed not to hear her. “Tell Joline I’ll see her once we’re on the road, Blaeric.”

“She wants you now, Cauthon.”

Toy sighed and rose. Tuon could not believe he would go to another woman just because she asked it. He had no right! “Who is Joline, Toy?” she demanded again, deliberately using the nominative he hated so much.

“A bloody Aes Sedai,” he grumbled as he placed his hat on his head and headed for the door.

Tuon very nearly reached for the cup to throw at the door as it closed behind the men. Not even a word of farewell! She would teach him some respect. And he had better keep his promise! And what was an Aes Sedai doing in the camp, one that Toy knew? He was keeping secrets, and she didn’t like that.

She would discover his secrets, and she would learn of him. _Before_ she made her choice.


	2. The First Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue is taken straight from CoT pp 616-619.

### The First Lesson

The wagon started moving not long after Toy left. Tuon returned to her book or talked with Setalle for several hours. The former innkeeper was an interesting companion, but she surely had some strange notions. No matter. Tuon enjoyed her discussions with the woman.

Shortly after they stopped for the night a white-haired man—not Merrilin, the other one—and the ugly boy joined them. Noal Charin regaled them with amazing tales—the man was a fantastic liar. Olver asked so charmingly for someone to play Snakes and Foxes with him that Tuon settled down on the floor asking how to play.

She hardly noticed when Master Charin stopped talking, but she did look up when the door opened. Toy stood there, with that traitorous woman behind him. Olver turned too, to greet Toy.

“Noal has been telling us about Co’dansin, Mat. That’s another name for Shara. Did you know the Ayyad tattoo their faces? That’s what they called women who can channel, in Shara,” Olver babbled cheerfully.

“No, I didn’t,” Toy replied, glaring at Master Charin for some reason. Why should Toy glare? He was just as bad with tales.

Master Charin, far from being insulted, straightened. “I remember now.   
“‘Fortune rides like the sun on high   
‘with the fox that makes the ravens fly.   
‘Luck his soul, the lightning his eye,   
‘He snatches the moons from out of the sky.’”

When he finished his recitation, Master Charin looked around at everyone else and explained, “I’ve been trying to remember that. It’s from the Prophecies of the Dragon.”

Tuon suppressed a chill. Toy had a signet ring that fit the second line perfectly. She had not realized that Toy was in the Prophecies, though. She wasn’t particularly fond of that last line, either.

“Very interesting, Noal,” Toy muttered, sounding anything but intrigued. “Maybe some time you can recite the whole thing for us. But not tonight, eh?”

Tuon watched him, wondering why he should feel uncomfortable at hearing the Prophecies. Almost to herself, Tuon murmured “Toy doesn’t mean to be rude. He just has never been trained in manners. But it is late, Master Charin; time for Olver to be in bed.” The Light knew how late the boy would stay up if someone didn’t look out for him. “Perhaps you will escort him to his tent? We’ll play again another time, Olver. Would you like me to teach you to play stones?”

Olver expressed his eagerness, tempting a smile from Tuon. He was a good boy, despite what he must have learned from Toy. He was very polite too, bowing and thanking her for playing with him before he left. A good lad.

“You have a reason for interrupting me, Toy?” Tuon asked, turning her attention once more to the man. “It _is_ late, and I was thinking of going to sleep.”

Now the man bowed, well after he should have. He had the effrontery to smile at her, too. She did not trust his smiles. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. These wagons are uncomfortable, on the road.” As if she did not know that. “And I know you aren’t happy with the clothes I could find you. I thought this might make you feel better.” He pulled a pouch from his pocket and presented it with pride.

Selucia tensed, ever watchful. Tuon commanded her to relax, however. She did not think Toy meant her any harm. Even so, she studied the simple bag before opening it. Within was a necklace, meant for a Shea Dancer. What this some kind of joke? No, perhaps he did not know what it was. She made a show of studying it, then offered it to Selucia. Her shadow took it with distaste, explaining for Toy’s benefit what it was. Then she threw it to the Low Blood, who was trying to blend into the cabinets.

“Put it on!”

The woman obeyed, as well she should. She turned woodenly at Selucia’s direction, her face a mask.

“She came for a new name,” Tuon mused. “What does she call herself?”

“Leilwin,” Selucia offered derisively. “A fitting name for a shea dancer. Leilwin Shipless, perhaps?”

Yes, that would do. Leilwin would never captain a ship again if Tuon had her way. She nodded. “Leilwin Shipless.”

Leilwin jerked, then asked to withdraw. She didn’t do it properly, though. She bowed, acting as if she were here of her own accord.

“If you want to go, then go,” Toy growled. As if he had any right to give permission in Tuon’s presence. She wondered if it was ignorance, or impudence.

“Please, may I withdraw?” Leilwin asked again, this time going to her knees. Tuon ignored her. She was certain the woman would get the idea if she waited. Ignorance was not Leilwin's flaw.

She did. She kissed the floor and rephrased her request. “Please, I beg leave to withdraw.” Tuon signaled to Selucia. SHE MAY GO, BUT WHEN NEXT I SEE HER SHE MUST BE VEILED.

“You will go, Leilwin,” Selucia relayed, “and you will not let me see your face again unless it is covered by a shea dancer’s veil.”

Leilwin scrambled out the door so fast that Tuon knew she had learned her lesson. Hopefully Toy had learned something from this as well. Judging by the smile he was summoning, he had not. Well, she had not expected this to be easy.

“Well, I suppose—”

Tuon raised her hand to speak to Selucia while ostensibly ignoring Toy. ENOUGH. TELL HIM HE MAY GO.

That was one order Selucia was doubtless pleased to receive. “The High Lady is weary, Toy. You have her permission to go.”

“Look, my name is Mat. An easy name. A simple name. Mat.”

The man truly knew nothing. Tuon ignored him, staring at nothing. He had no right to use her name, and he certainly shouldn’t expect her to use his! Not yet, anyway. He could not have it so easy. Only he did not seem to want to make it easier for her, either.

Setalle came to her rescue, setting aside her embroidery and rising. “Young man, if you think you’re going to lounge about till you get to see us readying for bed, you’re sadly mistaken.”

That did the trick. He finally left, and not a moment too soon. Tuon wasn’t certain she could hold her temper for much longer. What was it about the man that irritated her so?

And why, of all men, must he be the one?


	3. Playing Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the rest of “A Cluster of Rosebuds.” Mat, Tuon, the characters, plot, and world of Wheel of Time belong exclusively to Robert Jordan. The plot and most of the dialogue come straight from pp 620-628 of Crossroads of Twilight.

### Playing Games

Toy returned the next night alone. She was not quite sure how he convinced her to play a game of stones, but she found herself sitting on the floor across from him with the board between them. He seemed indecisive and distracted. Tuon stifled disappointment. She had been hoping for more of a challenge.

Perhaps he had let her win. If so, she had a thing or two she would like to tell him. She was no child to be given an easy game. She was the Daughter of the Nine Moons, trained in intrigue since before she could walk. Anyone who thought her incapable deserved to be sold on the block.

“You don’t play very well, Toy,” she mocked him. His face looked stunned as he took in the board. He recovered quickly, however, bowing and leaving without making himself obnoxious.

Once the door had closed behind him, Tuon let out the laugh she had been holding back. She glanced at Setalle, who was shaking her head. She didn’t look disapproving, only amused. Selucia _did_ look disapproving, but there was hardly anything she could do about the situation. Come to that, there was little Tuon could do about it. Perhaps her road would be more amusing than she had thought.

 

The next night she got a rude surprise. When Toy arrived, he brought a paper flower which he presented to Selucia, of all people. Selucia betrayed her surprise with an eyebrow, and Tuon had to struggle to keep her own demeanor impassive. Surely he would not court her maid with her watching! But no, he was sitting down to stones again. 

He was not nearly so easy to trap this night. He did not dither over his moves. He countered many of her ploys before she could even set them up. She felt a warm curl of pleasure blossom in her chest. Now this was more like it! It had been so long since she had enjoyed a good challenge, without the accompanying risk of _Deas Dae'mar_ There was no doubt now that Toy had a good mind behind all that foolishness.

Though it did leave her wondering just how much of his behavior was a facade

 

He brought other gifts for Selucia on the following nights, but he paid attention exclusively to Tuon. She wondered if he was trying to curry Selucia’s favor, not that his approach was likely to work. She stilled the irritation she felt whenever he handed a new flower to her maid. It was only that his behavior was inconsistent, that was all. It was not as if he was hurting her feelings.

This was not about feelings.

Then, one night he brought a gift for her instead of Selucia. It was very pretty, all in vibrant red silk and well-made. Rather than a single flower, the gift was a cluster of tiny rosebuds, delicate and perfectly mimicking real flowers. They even had stems and tiny leaves. Toy didn’t hand it to her, just left it beside the board as they sat down to play.

Very canny. She did not have to accept his gift, but she rather thought she might. Selucia was very fond of her own flowers, and this one was even finer. She wondered if he had intended for her to read a message in choosing roses? For though roses were beautiful, they were not defenseless. But perhaps she was reading too much into his gift. It might just be a continuation of the courting process. Well-considered gifts were manifestly required. Not that she could be won over by gifts alone, but she did like being remembered.

However, this move gave him the upper hand, though he might not know it yet. To put him off balance—he was entirely too confident--she remarked, “I’ve changed my mind, Toy. You play very well.” She might have been talking about the game, but judging by the startled look on his face he knew she was not.

After the game, she made her own move. “I have kept my word, Toy. No attempts to escape, no attempts at betrayal. This is confining. I wish to take walks. After dark will do. You may accompany me.” She glanced at the rosebuds to be sure he understood her meaning. She would allow him to court her, but only to a point. Besides, she wanted a better idea of what kind of man he was. “To make sure I don’t run away.”

Tuon made very sure not to give a hint of her gratitude when Toy agreed, albeit after a short hesitation. Like it or not, he did have power over her. She was very much alone and unprotected, but for Selucia, while he had trusted allies at his back. He had displayed that quite clearly. She was glad that he kept his word.

There was something liberating in gathering up her cloak, knowing that she was going to wear it outside this stuffy wagon. When she thought about it too much, the walls started to close in, so she didn't think about it. Even agreeing to hide her identity with her hood could not dampen her rising spirits. She did not even care that it was currently dark out.

Selucia and Setalle followed them at a distance, but they might as well have been alone. Toy tried asking questions of her, but she was too well practiced at deflection to give anything away. She would share on her terms, not his. Toy, on the other hand, was positively open about most things.

He talked about his home in the Two Rivers, and his family. When she asked him what he did, he replied only that he was a gambler, without explaining what he was doing away from home.

“My father called himself a gambler. He died of a bad wager,” Tuon murmured softly, watching for his reaction. Though the statement was true, it gave her no pain. Even so, Toy seemed a little unsure of what to say. He didn’t ask any further questions that night, though she had expected him to. Very strange.

Some questions he deflected clumsily, like the question over how many women he had kissed. Perhaps he thought her too sheltered to understand. Perhaps she was.

 

For some reason he stayed away for two days. She was surprised to find herself irritable and annoyed because of it. She felt restless, unable to settle to any one thing. She told herself it was the captivity, not wondering why he hadn’t come. He couldn’t have lost interest so quickly, could he? She had thought the challenge alone would be enough to keep him engaged. She was certain he loved an uncertain wager.

Perhaps that was why she chose to sit on the seat of the wagon when they crossed the Eldar. She wanted him to remember that this was a dangerous game, and she was not so patient as to wait forever. The expression he wore when he recognized her was very gratifying. She was certain he was going to swallow his tongue.

That night, he returned to the wagon again. Tuon had been hoping for this, and was ready.

“You promised to make me comfortable, Toy,” she reminded him coolly. “I would prefer clothing fitting to my rank and station.” She did not attempt to conceal her distaste for the poorly tailored dress she had been wearing. She was accustomed to much better quality, even when she was under the veil.

He eyed her dubiously for a moment, and then replied, “I’ll think on it. I don’t know quite where I’m going to find you silk dresses out here.”

She accepted that without a protest, because she _knew_ what answer he would have to give. He had promised, and she only had to keep her promise for as long as he kept his. She had regained the upper hand, and this pleased her.


	4. An Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tuon does a little shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot and most (but not all) of the dialogue is drawn from pages 631-640 of Robert Jordan’s Crossroads of Twilight.

### An Outing

It took Toy three days to agree to her perfectly reasonable request. She didn’t let it bother her, since she knew what his answer would be.

She dressed carefully that morning. She made sure she was completely concealed, and that Selucia was as well. It wouldn’t do to discomfit Toy enough for him to change his mind. As soon as they were ready, they left the wagon to wait outside. Tuon didn’t want to spend one moment more in that wagon than was necessary. She took a deep breath of the winter air and pretended that she didn’t see the armsman giving them strange looks. She raised her chin and projected indifference to the world around her as she waited.

Toy arrived later than she wished, but sooner than she expected. He was decently garbed, for once, in good wool and silk. She was surprised he knew how to dress himself. Unless Leilwin had helped him. Tuon suppressed the sudden discomfort that thought provoked.

He bowed to her with a flourish, as if he were a performer. There was no sincerity in his act, and Tuon reminded herself that he was not accustomed to Highbloods. “Are you ready to go shopping?” he inquired boldly.

“I have been ready for an hour, Toy,” she replied coolly. Mustn’t let him think he had the upper hand. She made a show of eyeing his clothing, even inspecting his coat, as if to make certain he wouldn’t embarrass her. “Lace suits you. Perhaps I will have lace added to your robes if I make you a cupbearer.”

She knew she wouldn’t do any such thing, but she liked watching his control slip. To own the truth, she liked being the one that discomfited him. If he was going to turn her world upside down, the least he could do is put up with the same. The lace did look good, though. It almost made him look civilized.

“Do you want me to come along, my Lord?” the armsman inquired. Tuon glanced at him, but he was very carefully not looking at anyone. “Just to carry, maybe?”

Tuon looked back at Toy, eyes hard and implacable. She dared him to bring the soldier and display his doubt in her word. He would suffer if he did that, and she wanted him to know it.

Somehow, he got the message. He jerked his head, sending the soldier off. Then he offered her his arm. She considered it for a moment, and decided that would be too informal. She did not want to encourage him too far, after all. She wanted to see how he handled today, at the least. She wanted assurance that this was what she had to do.

Tuon strode off, trusting Selucia to shadow her and Toy to catch up. He would not want his captives running off, oh no. 

Master Luca’s wife, Latelle, watched them as they left. Toy stopped to speak to her, just loudly enough for her to hear him.

“I have everything in hand. Believe me, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Tuon wasn’t surprised that Latelle didn’t believe him. He didn’t sound as if he believed himself. She was quite certain he was aware that he did _not_ have everything in hand.

Latelle frowned at Tuon and Selucia, and then at Toy. “Remember, if you send us to the gallows, you send yourself.” She turned back to watching the people entering her show.

Though no Highblood, this was a woman Tuon could respect. Mistress Latelle knew her place and her domain and her worth. Her management skills were clearly well-matched her husband's showmanship and grand ambition.

After taking a few steps to get out of earshot, Tuon murmured, “She is a good wife for Master Luca.” Toy gave her a look akin to a rabbit that had stumbled onto a lion’s hunting ground, and resettled his hat. She could just see his thoughts turning, trying to get the meaning out of her statement. In truth, she just had only spoken in order to watch his reaction.

She had wondered, sometimes, if he knew what game he was playing. She was certain now that he did. The gifts, the walks, the attempts to learn about her…and the way he reacted to mentions of marriage and making him her cupbearer. She was certain it was on his mind.

He abruptly started moving very strangely, leaping about on the road. He fell behind, and she looked back. She could find no rational explanation for his behavior, and so asked, “Are you practicing a dance, Toy? It isn’t very graceful.”

He stopped, opened his mouth, and then looked around slowly. He seemed disturbed by something. He touched his chest, eyes wide and disbelieving. Tuon raised an eyebrow and managed not to ask if he was feeling alright.

“I can’t buy you a dress standing here,” he said, just as if he was not the reason they had stopped.

Tuon exchanged a glance with Selucia, shaking her head. He was a very strange man, sometimes. Maybe even a good man—she did not know—but he was just like any other in not wanting to admit to acting the fool. She turned and started for the town again, certain that he would follow soon.

The guard let them pass without protest. He looked pretty enough, but nothing like the guards she was used to. Such a lack of discipline or protocol would never have been tolerated in Seandar. That would need to be addressed by those training new recruits in their reclaimed territories.But that was a matter for a more distant time.

Jurador was a quaint little town. It was noisy and close. All the buildings looked much the same, though some were a little larger. All had screens for privacy and all were roofed in red tiles. There was a nice symmetry to it. Tables with wares and hawkers lined the streets. Tuon and Selucia stopped at each table offering silk, to test the quality of the goods. She murmured to Selucia about color and weave, and ignored the watchful shopkeepers. Whenever Toy came too close, she stared at him until he backed off. She was resolved that he would not ruin her shopping, and judging by his recent attire she was certain he had no sartorial acumen. Eventually she decided to just ignore him. 

Some tables she paused at for awhile, and some she barely glanced at. Nothing here was quite what she wanted. Nor did she want to make this too easy for Toy. This was about her outing, and him making good on a promise. Whatever he had to do to make her comfortable, he had said. Well, if she decided her comfort involved dressing as was her habit, who was he to tell her nay?

At last, she found a table with silk fine enough to warrant further investigation. For once, Toy was not at her elbow. She remained unruffled and entered the shop with Selucia. The room was filled with cloth of every color and weight, all of it of good quality. Excellent.

The shopkeeper immediately came forward, eyeing them suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

Tuon did not answer—indeed, dared not even if she wished to condescend, for her accent was far too memorable—so she simply fingered a bolt of crimson silk.

“What is it you need? Have you the gold to buy that sort of silk?” The shopkeeper was being terribly rude, even if Tuon _was_ dressed poorly. Tuon ignored her, studying another bolt.

“For the last time, if you won’t tell me what you’re here for, I’m going to send Nelsa for the guards.”

Toy burst into the shop at that moment. “They’re with me,” he announced, tossing a purse onto a table. “Give them whatever they want.” By the smile on the woman’s face, she would be only too happy to comply. Then Toy turned to her. “If you’re going to buy anything, it’s going to be here. I’ve had all the exercise I care for this morning.”

Such a strange man. Riding all day or wandering about a dangerous city didn’t tire him in the least, but one morning of looking at fabric was all he could handle. And he was finally acting like a captain instead of a deckboy. Interesting. What had put him in this mood, she wondered. She met his eyes and smiled to herself.

Then she turned away to make her choices. The silk here was of good quality, fine weave, and varied. She pointed to bolts of silk in sapphire, azure, navy, indigo, jade, emerald, ruby, scarlet and crimson, measuring with her hands. She picked out a few swatches of linen and wool, mostly for Selucia with a little for herself. The shopkeeper cut it all herself, rather than delegating to her assistant, and everything was folded and wrapped to her satisfaction. Once it was ready, Tuon stared at Toy until he picked up the bundle. Satisfied that he knew his place, she stepped back onto the street with her head held high.


	5. A Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tuon hears something she doesn't like, and makes an independent decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This picks up right where the last chapter left off, and takes us through the end of book 10. Most of the dialogue is from pages 640-650 of Crossroads of Twilight. The plot is also not mine.

### Chapter 5: A Traitor

The walk back to the show was pleasant, even knowing she would be back in that stuffy wagon again all too soon. It was sunny and not too cold, and she felt refreshed after her morning in the town. She would have to see about getting Toy to take her out of the menagerie more often. Perhaps in the next unoccupied town they came to. 

Her pleasure was slightly spoiled when one of Toy’s men came running as soon as they entered the show. He spoke low, so the people entering the show wouldn’t hear, but Tuon paused to listen. “I was coming to find you. It’s Egeanin; she’s been…hurt. Come quickly.”

Tuon frowned, wondering who would have attacked Leilwin within the show. Toy didn’t seem to be plagued with the same curiosity. He threw her bundle of silk at one of the horse handlers, muttered something about guarding it, and set off at a run. Tuon considered for a moment before motioning for Selucia to take the bundle from the man. Then she set off after the others.

The destination seemed to be the green wagon used by Toy, Leilwin, and her _da’covale_. Mistress Latelle was peering under it, and Master Luca was trying to shoo people along. The _da’covale_ was on the ground, holding Leilwin. Master Luca was muttering something as Tuon arrived, and gave her a look that quickly morphed to speculation. He did not look pleased by whatever thoughts her presence inspired.

Toy seemed to take little notice, going to one knee to check Leilwin’s pulse. “What happened?” he demanded, voice commanding once again. He really was in a mood today. “Have you sent for one of the sisters?”

“Renna!” the _da’covale_ —Tuon thought his name was Domon—replied. He suddenly did not look at all meek or servant-like. Where _had_ Leilwin found him? “I did see her stab Egeanin in the back and run. If I could have reached her, I would have broken her neck, but my hand be all that’s holding Egeanin’s blood in. Where be that bloody Aes Sedai?” He was obviously distraught.

“I be right here, Bayle Domon,” announced a woman with that strange face some of the _marath’damane_ had. The woman crouched under the wagon with little hesitation and grabbed Leilwin’s head. “Joline do be better at this than I, but I may be able—”

Leilwin convulsed suddenly, and then both women slumped with Domon supporting them both. The _marath’damane_ murmured, “Thank you, but I need no help.” She straightened, hand on the side of the wagon, and looked from one on-looker to the next. “The blade did slide on a rib and so did miss her heart. All she does need now be rest and food.”

Toy hardly seemed to notice the woman’s comment. He was glancing at the show-folk who were watching avidly. Then he turned back to the matter at hand. “Who’s looking for her, Juilin? Juilin?”

The man who had fetched them—or rather, fetched Toy—stopped glaring at Tuon and answered, “Vanin and the Redarms, Lopin and Nerim. Olver, too. He was away before I could catch him. But in this…” he gestured towards the street of the fair, where even now the usual noises of many people in one space could be heard. “All she needs is to lay hands on one of those fancy cloaks, and she can slip out with the first folk to leave. If we try stopping every woman with her hood up, or even try looking inside, we’ll have a riot on our hands. These people are touchy.”

“Disaster,” Master Luca moaned, distressed by the very idea. Tuon very nearly sniffed at him. As if it would really come to that. 

“Burn me, why?” Toy growled, looking as if this were a personal insult. “Renna was always ready to lick my bloody wrist. I thought if anybody went over the edge…!”

His man, Juilin, scowled darkly at that. Tuon didn’t need it explained to her to know what Toy meant. The sniveling woman on his arm looked none too strong.

Leilwin answered from Domon’s arms. “I’m the only one who knew her secret. The only one who might give it away, at least. She may have thought it would be safe to go home, with me dead.”

Tuon frowned, not liking the sound of this. Was the woman a worse traitor than she had thought?

“What secret?” Toy asked softly.

After a sigh, Leilwin answered. “Renna was leashed, once. So were Bethamin and Seta. They can channel. Or maybe learn to; I don’t know. But the _a’dam_ worked on those three. Maybe it works on any _sul’dam_.”

Toy whistled at that, but Tuon paid hardly any attention. Selucia made to protest and took a step towards Domon, but Tuon stopped her. SILENCE. DON’T MOVE. Selucia obeyed, but her eyes were flashing with anger. Not that Tuon was any happier. It didn’t take her long to follow what Leilwin had revealed to its conclusion.

Somehow, women who could channel had slipped through the rigorous tests for _marath’damane_. Three of them, no less! It was unconscionable. Inconceivable. Absolutely unacceptable.

Equally unacceptable was that Leilwin had known it and had not reported it. It was her duty to make this report to Suroth. Or…perhaps she had, and Suroth had not reported it to Tuon? If so, than Tuon had something else to consider. It would not be the first time one of the High Blood deceived the Empress for his or her own ends.

But even worse than missing three _marath’damame_ —nay, than giving a _marath’damane_ an honored place as a _sul’dam_ , was what Leilwin’s last sentence implied. No, she refused to believe it. Leilwin was lying, misinformed. Not about the first part, or Renna wouldn’t have run, but that last bit couldn’t be true. Tuon refused to accept it.

The sound of horses approaching drew her attention. Four armed men—heavily armed men—trotted towards them, leading a fifth horse. The man in the lead eyed Tuon briefly, then the gathered crowd, as if doubting that they should hear what he had to say. He seemed to shrug them off, though, as he reported, “Renna stole a horse, my Lord. Rode down one of the horse handlers at the entrance getting out. Vanin’s following her. He says she could reach Coramen some time tonight. That’s the way she’s headed. She’s moving a lot faster than the wagons did. But she’s riding bareback; we can catch her, with luck.” He spoke as if the luck were a certain thing.

Toy barely hesitated before turning to Master Luca, saying, “Get your people on the road as fast as they can pack up, Luca. Leave the wall and anything else you can’t get onto the wagons fast. Just go.” He mounted as he was speaking, his movements sure and steady.

“Are you crazy?” demanded Master Luca. “If I try to chase those people out, I _will_ have a riot! And they’ll want their coin back!”

“Think what you’ll have if a thousand Seanchan find you here tomorrow,” Toy replied, his voice like ice. Now that was the way to talk to an inferior. He didn’t show that sense often. “Juilin, leave all the gold for Luca except one good purse. Gather everybody and ride out as soon as you can. Once you’re out of sight of the town, take to the forest. I’ll find you.”

“Everybody?” Juilin asked, jerking his head at Tuon. “Leave those two in Jurador, and the Seanchan might stop with getting them back. It might slow them down, at least. You keep saying you’re going to turn them loose sooner or later.”

Tuon met Toy’s gaze, face implacable. He wouldn’t really do it, would he? After coming all this way, surely he wouldn’t just drop it. _If he is the one, then he will not._

She didn’t know what he saw in her eyes, but he replied curtly, “Everybody.”

She should not be feeling relieved that he had decided to keep her captive. She certainly shouldn’t be feeling pleased! Still, she nodded a little to herself, glad that her decision had not been in error.

“Let’s ride.”

For a moment, Tuon watched him ride his horse away leading his men. She was aware of Master Luca muttering about riots and the loss of profits. She turned to see that no one had moved much. Juilin was eyeing her doubtfully. Well, she supposed he had some excuse. At some point, the gleeman, Merrilin, had joined them. She wondered how much he had heard of the action.

Luca turned to Juilin. “I’ll be taking that gold now, and then you can be on your way.”

Merrilin suddenly found knives from somewhere and began playing them over his hands. Juilin loosened his grip on the woman—Thera?—to reach for his sword-breaker. Both men were scowling.

“I’ll slit your throat before I hand over a single coin,” Merrilin declared menacingly.

“I’ll crack your head if you try,” warned Juilin.

Master Luca flourished his cloak and scowled at both of them, affronted. “Now see here…”

“I do not think riding off into the wilderness is the best solution,” Tuon broke into the impending argument thoughtfully.

“But Mat said…” Juilin protested.

“I heard what he said. But I doubt the traitor will reach Coramen. Nor would running save you if she did. It would be easier to continue as we have, hiding in plain sight.”

Master Luca cleared his throat. “Now see here. You all being here has become a danger to the safety of my show, and I must say…”

“Be at ease, Master Luca,” Tuon dismissed his concerns coolly. “Have you forgotten who I am? I am sure I can find some way to set your mind at rest.”

Master Luca gaped for a moment, and then closed his mouth as Latelle laid a hand on his arm. 

“What did you have in mind, High Lady?” Mistress Latelle asked in a good approximation of humility.

“Perhaps we could discuss this in your wagon?” Tuon suggested pleasantly. She had had enough standing around in the open. The novelty of fresh air was tempered by unseen ears. This was no proper setting for conducting negotiations. She cast the others looks that ordered them about their business and allowed Mistress Latelle to lead her to a large and well-furnished wagon. Somehow Master Luca had a real table and real chairs. It was a vast change from the windowless wagon Tuon shared with Selucia and Mistess Anan. Tuon removed her cloak and took a seat gracefully as Latelle muttered about providing tea and maybe something in the way of a snack.

Tuon waited while Letalle served tea, allowing her plan to formulate more fully. She thought she knew the measure of Master Luca now. There was really no need for any of them to part with any gold at all to ease his fears.

Master Luca was not a patient man. He barely waited until Mistress Latelle handed her a teacup before demanding to know how he was to keep his show safe.

“It is very simple,” Tuon explained patiently. “You will be under my protection. No Seanchan would harm you, with my own warrant for you to perform wherever you please.” She lowered her voice and emphasized the last three words. “Have you any paper?”

Master Luca appeared dumbfounded, but Letalle fetched a sheet of expensive paper quickly enough. As Tuon wrote out her warrant, she warned him, “This is only to be used at need, Master Luca. It is not to be bandied about casually.” She did not think Toy would like that. Neither would she, if it came to that. High Lords and Ladies did not patronize menageries and traveling shows very often.

“Of course, of course,” he babbled, pleased beyond reckoning. She smiled a little to herself as she began listing who was and was not under her protection. There was no way she was going to protect Toy. He had to get himself out of his own mess. That probably wouldn’t please him, but she was curious as to how he would handle it if they did get caught. It might be an interesting situation. She had not promised to help him, after all, only not to betray him.

…

It was very late when Toy entered the wagon. Tuon had spent a rather pleasant evening with Mistress Latelle and Master Luca. She made a show of choosing a pastry as Toy entered, all cool composure. “Is she captured, or dead?” she asked, as if the answer didn’t really matter to her, as if there was no possible third option. She was fairly certain he would not have returned so promptly unless he had succeeded. 

“Dead,” came the answer, in an unhappy tone. He was obviously not proud of what he had done. “Luca, what in the Light—”

“I forbid it, Toy!” she announced sharply. “I forbid you to mourn a traitor! She earned death by betraying the Empire, and she would have betrayed you as easily. She was trying to betray you. What you did was justice, and I name it so.” No one could blame him for killing a _sul’dam_ if she said it was justified. Renna _was_ a traitor, not only to the Empire but to Tuon or Toy. She had owed her loyalty to one of them.

That didn’t seem to appease him, though. He closed his eyes as he asked, “Is everyone else still here, too?”

“Of course. The Lady—the High Lady; forgive me, High Lady.” Luca interrupted himself to bow to her. “She talked to Merrilin and Sandar and…Well, you see how it was. A very persuasive woman, the Lady. The High Lady. Cauthon, about my gold. You said they were to hand it over, but Merrilin said he’d slit my throat first, and Sandar threatened to crack my head, and…” He trailed off for a moment that was all too brief. The man did babble on beyond decency. “Look what the High Lady gave me!” He showed off his warrant, as proud as a young high blood with his first _da’covale_. “A warrant. Not sealed, of course, but signed. Valan Luca’s Grand Traveling Show and Magnificent Display of Marvels and Wonders is now under the protection of the High Lady Tuon Athaem Kore Paendrag. Everyone will know who that is, of course. I could go to Seanchan. I could put on my show for the Empress! May she live forever,” he added with another bow. 

Tuon hid her smile as Toy sank onto one of the beds in defeat, and raised one hand in warning to Luca. “You are not to use that except at need, Master Luca. _Great_ need!” she reminded him.

“Of course, High Lady; of course.”

“I did make specific mention of who is not under my protection, Toy,” she told him casually. “Can you guess whose name heads that list?” She smiled, anticipating his reaction. No, he definitely was not pleased.

Then the oddest thing happened. Toy’s eyes fell to her shoulder, where she had pinned his gift of rosebuds that morning, and he laughed. The man _laughed_.

Despite everything, she still did not understand this man, and she was not sure she ever would.


	6. Name Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mat comes up with a pet name for Tuon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue and plot come from pages 191-195 of Knife of Dreams, hardcover edition.

### Name Games

The next day started off well enough for Tuon. The Show’s seamstress had finished the first of her dresses, and Tuon wasted no time donning it. It was amazing how much more comfortable she felt just being properly garbed again.

Master Charin and Olver arrived around midmorning. The former was full of stories that intrigued Tuon as much as they did the boy. The places he claimed to have been sounded wondrous strange. The morning passed pleasantly as she listened to his tales and wondered how many were true.

The enjoyable atmosphere was interrupted by Toy barging in without so much as knocking. Had his mother taught him no manners at all? She stared at him, face like stone, and berated him coolly. “Manners, Toy. You knock, then wait for permission to enter. Unless you are property or a servant. Then you do not knock.” Not that he would make a very good servant. He had not the right demeanor, though she was certain she could teach him. If she wanted to, that is. “You also have grease on your coat. I expect you to keep yourself clean.” Honestly! Had the man no decorum at all?

He simply stared at her for a moment with a hungry look in his eyes. She had to fight not to shiver at that look. Then he leered at her. “I’ll remember that, Precious.” He took a seat and set down his hat without waiting for an invitation—which would not have been given. “I hope there’s more water than wine in that cup in front of Olver.” Tuon barely heard him, nor Olver’s indignant reply.

“What did you call me?” she demanded, certain she had misheard. It took a surprising amount of effort to keep her tone even. Calling her by name was bad enough, but pet names? No Seanchan would have dared to presume to such familiarity.

Toy was entirely too confident in his reply. “Precious. You have a pet name for me, so I thought I should have one for you, Precious.”

Tuon considered that for a moment. So not rudeness—or not _just_ rudeness—but a gambit instead. This might provide some amusement, and there was no one that mattered to witness his impertinence. “I see.” She signed to Selucia to find a cup and plate for Toy, and then continued, “Very well. It will be interesting to see who wins _this_ game, Toy.” She had the satisfaction of seeing his smile slip a little. Good. She didn’t want him too confident, after all.

Master Charin broke the silence by continuing his tale where he left off, with the Ayyad. That prompted Toy to ask a strange question. It seemed strange to Tuon, at least.

“Are you any relation to Jain Charin, Noal?” He had barely finished the question before spitting the pit of an olive into his palm. Tuon frowned at his eating habits. It seemed she would have to start from scratch with him.

After a heavy silence, Noal Charin finally replied. “A cousin. He was my cousin.” Tuon looked up at the man, noting the lie and wondering about it.

“You’re related to Jain Farstrider?” Olver asked, looking as if he had just been promised a new toy.

“Who is this man with two names?” Tuon inquired curiously. “Only great men are spoken of so, and you speak as if everyone should know him.” She knew the names of the so-called great generals, and some of the jumped-up rulers who would be put in their places, but she did not recall hearing of this Jain fellow before.

“He was a fool,” Master Charin answered quickly, before Olver could explain. “He went gallivanting about the world and left a good and loving wife to die of a fever without him there to hold her hand while she died. He let himself be made into a tool by—” He broke off, his face blank, and rubbed at his forehead.

“Jain Farstrider _was_ a great man,” Olver insisted, body tense. “He fought Trollocs and Myrddraal, and he even had more adventures than anyone else in the whole world! Even Mat! He captured Cowin Gemallan after Gemallan betrayed Malkier to the Shadow!”

Tuon fought to hide her frown. More wonder tales, then. Although…they spoke as if he might be real. But if wonder tales were the best of his adventures, what did that say about the rest?

Master Charin patted the boy’s shoulder to calm him. “He did that, boy. That much is to his credit. But what adventure is worth leaving your wife to die alone?” His voice was full of pain and sorrow, and some of the shine left Olver’s eyes at his tone.

Tuon stood to pat the old man’s arm. “You have a good heart, Master Charin.” It was enough that he regretted whatever it was he had done. He should know that.

“Do I, my Lady? Sometimes I think—”

He was interrupted by the door swinging open once again without a prior knock. Juilin stuck his head in, looking worried. “Seanchan soldiers are setting up across the road. I’m going to Thera. She’ll take fright if she hears it from anybody else.” Just as suddenly, he was gone.

Tuon turned her eyes to Toy, wondering how he would respond to _this_ situation.


	7. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tuon entertains some unwelcome visitors and receives a very welcome gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOT belongs to RJ, not to me, alas. Plot and the majority of the dialogue come from Knife of Dreams pp 196-231

### Chapter 7: A Gift

Tuon was mildly pleased to note that Toy took action immediately. The door was still swinging from Juilin’s exit when he started speaking. “Noal, find Egeanin and warn her. Olver, you warn the Aes Sedai, and Bethamin and Seta. I’ll go down to the entrance and try to see whether we’re in any trouble.”

“She won’t answer to that name,” Master Charin protested as he got to his feet. “You know she won’t.”

“You know who I mean,” Toy snapped, glaring at Tuon. How it was her fault that he did not understand the rules in the Empire, she did not know.

“I’m just saying,” Master Charin muttered. “Come on, Olver.”

Toy got up to follow, but Tuon couldn’t resist testing him. “No warnings for us to remain inside, Toy? No one left to guard us?”

If he hesitated at all, it was too brief to notice. “You gave your word,” he stated, as if that was all the explanation that was required. Tuon smiled in satisfaction. He was starting to learn. There was hope for him yet.

As soon as they were alone, Selucia spoke. “High Lady, if I may…?”

Tuon let her smile fade. “Clean this up, please.”

“Yes, High Lady.” Selucia rose and cleared away the dishes, but she did not forget her protest. “High Lady, are you entirely certain this is necessary? He could send you back now, if there are soldiers here.” She was very careful not to imply that Tuon should break her word, because she never would. Even so, the faithful _da’covale_ was patently anxious about her mistress.

“The situation amuses me,” Tuon declared. “Toy is strangely unpredictable, even for an oathbreaker. There is much I feel I do not know, and I must.”

“Even so.” Selucia was truly a master at imbuing her words with disapproval, without ever quite crossing the line into territory where a reprimand would be proper.

“Enough, Selucia. The omens are clear. Besides, I do not believe Toy will harm me.” 

There was little Selucia could say to _that_ , and the woman was smart enough not to try. Tuon picked up a book—full of fanciful tales and wild ideas, but entertaining enough to pass the time. The wagon fell into a silence that neither woman bothered to break.

~*~

They were roused early the next morning to move. It seemed there had been some scuffle the day before with a few of the soldiers, and Luca wanted to avoid any further trouble. It seemed rather unnecessary to Tuon—Seanchan troops were more disciplined than that—but she hardly wanted to protest. So, after eating, she and Selucia donned cloaks and hoods and climbed up on the wagon seat with the driver.

Tuon half-wondered if Toy would try to court her today, but he hung back by the wagon carrying the _marath’damane_. Tuon frowned a little to herself. Now what could possibly be so interesting about them? She had gotten the impression that he was none too fond of _marath’damane_ or _sul’dam_ , even if he did have peculiar notions about them.

Realizing what she was thinking about, Tuon scolded herself and focused on her surroundings. It would not do to miss something important, whether an omen or just a relevant observation about the countryside, simply because she was thinking about a man, of all things. Not that there was much to see, anyway. Just trees and fields like any other.

They stopped in mid-afternoon, at a place called Runnien Crossing. Tuon was glad enough to stop, since it was hardly comfortable to sit on a hard wagon seat all day. Tuon allowed the driver—one of Toy’s men—to help her down and then withdrew inside the wagon.

That night the _marath’damane_ made her their first visit. At first, Tuon was too surprised at their audacity to respond. They babbled and demanded, in tones that no property in Seanchan would think to use with even one of the Low Blood. They spoke of treaties Tuon was not interested in, made promises they could not possibly fulfill, and hinted strongly that they knew what was best for her. She would have laughed, if their presumption hadn’t been so irritating. She ordered them out and latched the door behind them. Then she turned to Selucia.

SEE IF YOU CAN FIND THE _A’DAM_ THEY USED TO GET OUT OF EBOU DAR. I WILL NEED THEM. BE DISCRETE, she ordered silently. Selucia agreed with alacrity, as she was almost as annoyed by the _marath’damane_ as her mistress.

Tuon found that she was suddenly very popular. Most of her visitors were more pleasant than the _marath’damane_ , thankfully. Mistress Anan dropped in often to chat, and Toy started appearing for midday in addition to their nightly games of stones. Olver had his games with her before that, of course, and Master Charin often accompanied him. Tuon didn’t mind him, since he told such fascinating stories, and who could object to such an endearing little boy as Olver?

She did not spend all of her time in the wagon, of course. Now that she was permitted—permitted!—to wander the show as she pleased, she did so quite often. The wagon was rather cramped, after all, and not at all what she was used to. She spent quite a bit of time with the seamstress, describing how she wanted each dress made, but the rest of the time she just wandered about observing the show.

The following morning, as Tuon was leaving the wagon for a walk, she noticed that Toy was standing in front of a tent just across from the door of the wagon. Tuon couldn’t help questioning him about it.

“Are you placing yourself as my guard now?”

“No. I’m just hoping for more glimpses of you,” he answered glibly, with a smile that Tuon suspected was supposed to be charming.

HE THINKS HE IS SO ELOQUENT, YET IF HE WERE NOT SO PRETTY I WOULD NOT WASTE ONE SECOND ON HIM, she told Selucia silently. Both of them laughed.

She discovered that Toy was frightfully ignorant about some things. Besides his foolish belief in fanciful monsters, he knew nothing of omens. His knowledge of the Prophecies of the Dragon was faulty, as most on this side of the Aryth Ocean seemed to be. She tried to educate him during their games of stones, but he seemed determined to be difficult about it.

“What do you know of the Dragon Reborn?” she asked him during one of their games of stones.

He choked on his wine, sputtering and coughing and then wiping his mouth with his sleeve of all things. She frowned at that and considered having something scratchy added to his sleeves, to keep him from mistaking them for a handkerchief.

“Well, he’s the Dragon Reborn. What else is there to know?” he asked, but he didn’t look at her when he said it. 

“A great deal, Toy,” she told him calmly. “For one thing, he must kneel to the Crystal Throne before Tarmon Gai’don. The Prophecies are clear on that, but I haven’t been able to learn where he is. It becomes still more urgent if he is the one who sounded the Horn of Valere, as I suspect.”

“The Horn of Valere?” he repeated, staring fixedly at the board. “It’s been found then?”

Tuon was beginning to wonder if he always used questions to cover his secrets. Still, she wondered what connection he had to the Horn, if he was trying not to discuss it. “It must have been, mustn’t it, if it was sounded?” she suggested dryly, amused at his pretense of ignorance. “The reports I’ve seen from the place where it was blown, a place called Falme, are very disturbing. Very disturbing. Securing whoever blew the Horn, man or woman, may be as important as securing the Dragon Reborn himself.” Then, because he was looking decidedly uncomfortable, she took pity on him. She did not want to make him bolt, after all. Not yet. “Are you going to play a stone or not, Toy?”

The game ended in a draw that night, though at the outset he had been winning. Afterwards, she managed to pinpoint just _when_ he had lost control. She wasn’t terribly surprised when she realized they had been discussing—though it could hardly be termed a discussion, when he wouldn’t put forth any useful comments—the Dragon Reborn. Granted, the topic was enough to make many uneasy, whether they were of the Blood or not, but she resolved to keep it in mind. There was some mystery there, she was sure of it.

~*~

One morning, several days after leaving Jurador, Toy coaxed Tuon out of the wagon, saying he had a surprise. She obligingly covered her eyes, deciding to play along, and said, “I like surprises.” He was just like a little boy, all eagerness and mischief. Recalling what else little boys were known for, she added, “Some surprises,” in warning. Surely he was too old to give her a muddy frog or some other nonsense. She dearly hoped he would not think that an acceptable gesture of courtship.

He left for a moment, and then she heard him returning. “You can look now. I thought you might like a ride. She’s yours.”

Opening her eyes, she saw a beautifully proportioned horse, all black and white stripes. She immediately gave the mare an inspection, checking teeth, hooves, and everything in between. At first glance, this was a fine specimen. She had rarely seen better, in fact.

“She’s a razor,” Toy explained, as he patted his own horse. “Domani bloodborn favor razors, and it’s not likely you’ll ever see another one outside of Arad Doman. What will you name her?”

“It is bad luck to name a horse before riding it,” Tuon rebuked him. So this horse was rare, was she? Better and better. The mare would make a fine courting gift. She almost found herself hoping he was the one, if this was how he gifted her. “She’s a very fine animal, Toy. A wonderful gift. Either you have a good eye, or you were very lucky.”

“I have a good eye, Precious,” he answered cheekily. Well, she was not going to argue yet.

“If you say so. Where is Selucia’s mount?”

Toy seemed to sigh, but then he whistled sharply. One of his men brought a dapple, grinning as he did it. Selucia inspected the mount, but it was obviously not as fine as the razor. Well, they could find a better mount for her later. For now, Tuon was too eager to ride the razor to wait. She had not had a proper ride in far too long. 

They mounted and walked their horses through the camp. For a time Tuon just enjoyed being in the saddle again. The razor’s gait was smoother than she had hoped. Once on the road, Tuon picked up the pace, trying each gait. She found herself becoming more and more pleased with the gift. She didn’t bother hiding her smile.

There were a few carts on the road, but they were easily avoided. Then a caravan of brightly painted wagons appeared, heading south. They began to pass, and then Tuon, struck with a sudden, playful urge, turned the razor and set her at a gallop through the trees. She knew Selucia and Toy would follow, but at the moment she was too caught up in the feel of the wind on her face and the pure power between her legs. The razor jumped obstacles and dodged trees like a dream. If she didn't know better, she would almost think they were flying.

Eventually, after at least a mile had passed under the mare’s hooves, Tuon slowed. She glanced briefly at her surroundings—an old forest, with a piece of a fallen statue nearby—and then turned in the saddle to see Toy approaching. He was closer than she had expected.

“Your animal is better than he looks,” she told him as she patted the razor. Far better than he looked, since he was an ugly thing. “Maybe you do have a good eye.”

His eyes wandered over her, lingering briefly on her hair before he scowled at her. He seemed to pay her praise no mind. “Burn how good my eye is. Do you always ride like a moon-blinded idiot? You could have broken that mare’s neck before she even got a name. Worse, you could have broken your own.” She ignored the shivery feeling that admission gave her, since he was continuing his tirade. “I promised to get you home safely, and I mean to do just that. If you’re going to risk killing yourself every time you go riding, then I won’t let you ride.”

She mastered her urge to smile by raising her hood. He seemed genuinely concerned for her welfare. Well, it was better than the alternative, she supposed. Still, she could take care of herself, and he was a fool if he thought otherwise. She hoped he didn’t think the gift of the razor was enough to make her let him have control over her. Quite the opposite. Then again, maybe he didn’t realize yet, what his gift meant. Disappointing, that, but there was no help for it.

“I name her Akein. That means ‘swallow.’”

Toy blinked at her, surprised. Maybe he had thought she would respond to his silly ultimatum. “I know. A good name. It suits her.”

There was nothing to say to that, and it would take Selucia a bit to catch up on that gentle horse she had been given. To distract him from looking at her—it was such a strange look, and it made her uncomfortable, though she would never show it—she asked, “What is this place, Toy? Or should I say, what was it? Do you know?” Her sharp eyes picked out more and more signs of ruins with every sweep of the clearing.

For a moment, he looked confused. Then he frowned, taking in the fallen statue and the other things she had noticed. He opened his mouth, and then his gaze locked on a set of hills in the distance, and he closed it without saying anything. His eyes glazed over briefly, and suddenly he went white.

Never had she seen him react quite like this. So, she brought Akein closer to him. “Toy, are you ill? You’ve gone pale as the moon.” 

“I’m right as springwater,” he muttered, but his thoughts were obviously not on her. What in the world could have caused this? And he certainly wasn’t getting better, so whatever he was thinking couldn’t have been pleasant.

“Well, you look as if you’re about to vomit. Who in the show would have herbs? I have some knowledge there.” It was unfortunate that they were so far away, now. He didn’t look fit to ride half a mile.

“I’m all right, I tell you.” A moment later, he groaned, putting the lie to his words.

Selucia arrived then, glancing suspiciously at them both. Tuon resisted the urge to rebuke her. She was perfectly capable of defending her own self, if need be. Or her virtue, come to that. “Next time, you can ride this gentle creature and I will ride your gelding,” she told Toy. Then, to Tuon, “High Lady, people from those wagons are following us with dogs. They’re afoot, but they will be here soon. The dogs don’t bark.”

It didn’t take her long to realize what that meant. “Trained guard dogs, then. Mounted, we can avoid them easily enough.”

“No need to try, and no use,” Toy broke in, his voice certain. Whatever had been wrong seemed to have entirely passed. “Those people are Tinkers, Tuatha’an, and they’re no danger to anybody. They couldn’t be violent if their lives depended on it. That’s no exaggeration, just simple truth. But they saw you two go haring off, trying to get away from me as it must have seemed, and me chasing after. Now that those dogs have the scent trail, the Tinkers will follow us all the way back to the show if need be to make sure you two haven’t been kidnapped or harmed. We’ll go meet them to save time and trouble.”

Selucia scowled and asked, DOES HE THINK HE CAN GIVE ORDERS TO A HIGH LADY? Tuon only laughed.

“Toy wishes to be commanding today, Selucia. I will let him command and see how he does.” That made him scowl, too, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. She could see what he thought of it.

They had not gone too far before a large group of people in bright, clashing colors appeared tramping through the trees. Toy dismounted almost immediately, and Tuon decided it would be only polite if she followed his example. That made the people stop, calling their dogs. Then the men approached Toy while the women surrounded Tuon and Selucia.

“Peace be on you and yours, my Lady. Forgiveness if we intrude, but are you all right?” a women with silver hair asked anxiously.

“We saw you riding away from that man. Were you trying to escape? We can give you shelter, if you need it,” another offered. Others offered similar statements, not letting Tuon get a word in edgewise.

“Quiet now, and let the Lady answer,” the first woman commanded. “My Lady?”

Tuon smiled a little. “No, I wasn’t trying to escape. I recently received this mare as a gift, and I wished to try her in more challenging terrain. I did not mean to cause you any trouble.” Her eyes cut to where Toy was talking with the men, and she smiled a little more. “We are playing a game, he and I, and I do believe I won this round.”

That made the women laugh, and put them at ease. They were willing enough to let her go, after that. As they were riding away, Tuon found herself more cheerful than she would have expected. And when Toy asked what she had told the other women, she couldn’t help but laugh. She _had_ won this round, but she didn’t tell him that. This game was just getting more interesting all the time.


	8. Marath'damane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Aes Sedai receive a lesson, and then Tuon receives another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters, plot, etc, etc, belong to RJ. Dialogue comes straight from pp 241-245 of the hardcover edition of Knife of Dreams. In other words, it’s not mine.

###  Chapter 8: _Marath'damane_

The next day and a half was almost pleasant for Tuon. Toy had done nothing to gain an upper hand in their game, or merely an even footing, for that matter. Master Charin and Olver kept her amused, and watching the countryside was a nice change from the inside of the wagon. The only mar on the day was that the _marath’damane_ insisted on pestering her. Finally, the night after receiving Akein, Tuon had had enough.

All three sisters entered the wagon without so much as a by-your-leave, interrupting her game with Toy—which she was winning—and one of them began giving her a condescending speech. Condescending, to her! Tuon barely paid attention to the words, but just the gist of it was enough to convince her that this woman needed to be taken down a peg or five. Or better yet, collared with the bracelet hanging on a peg in a cramped wagon.

“Selucia,” Tuon ordered calmly, one hand making the sign for _a’dam_ beneath the table. She picked up the bracelets ready in her lap and put them on. Her shadow obediently retrieved one of the _a’dam_ and placed it around Tessie’s neck. The instant Tuon completed Tessie, she reached out to shield the other _marath’damane_ , bind them in air, and close the door to keep Joline’s guards out. Tessie immediately screamed, and distracted the others long enough for Joline to be collared likewise. 

Joline, the only one who had not been collared before, immediately opened her mouth to speak. “If you think you can…” Tuon imagined a switch hitting the woman’s backside, and she stopped talking abruptly. 

“You see, the _a’dam_ can be used to punish, though that is seldom done,” Tuon explained as she stood. Seldom done by her, anyway. Constant punishment was only used by those who lacked finesse.

“No. You promised not to harm my followers, Precious,” Toy spoke, seeming strangely put out. Tuon was certain these _marath’damane_ had been almost as much of a nuisance to him as to herself. “You’ve kept your promises so far. Don’t go back on one now.”

That made Tuon’s blood run cold. As if she would ever go back on her word. The very implication was disgusting. “I promised not to cause dissension among your followers, Toy, and in any case, it is very clear that these three are not your followers.” These women made no pretense of obeying Toy in anything, and certainly showed him no respect. They were merely nuisances—dangerous nuisances with whom Tuon knew what to do. The small sliding door slid open, and Tuon closed it through Tessie. She ignored the cursing and banging behind, it as well as Toy’s scowl, and turned back to Joline.

“The _a’dam_ can also be used to give pleasure, as a reward,” she instructed Joline. She demonstrated this, stimulating feelings of pleasure in the collared woman. Joline reacted as most new _damane_ did, with wide eyes and weak knees. She caught herself quickly, but Tuon, who was connected to her, could feel her emotions. She was amazed, eager, disgusted at being eager, frightened, angry, determined, and struggling to hold to composure. This woman thought herself strong, but she was a fragile reed ready to be broken with a little pressure.

“Listen,” Toy interrupted. “If you think, you’ll see a hundred reasons this won’t work. Light, you can learn to channel yourself. Doesn’t knowing that change anything? You’re not far different from them.” Tuon dismissed this notion and continued the lesson as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Try to embrace _saidar_ ,” she commanded Joline. “Go ahead. You know the shield is gone.” Tuon waited while Joline attempted to touch the source, and failed. Then Tuon nodded. “Good. You’ve obeyed for the first time. And learned that you cannot touch the Power while you wear the _a’dam_ unless I wish it.” Tuon reached out through the link to touch the Power, and continued, “But now, I wish you to hold the Power, and you do, though you didn’t try to embrace it.” Tuon willed Joline to let go of the source, and she did, eyes widening. “And now, I wish you not to be holding the Power, and it is gone from you. Your first lessons.” The fear the woman was feeling was almost overpowering every other emotion now, except for a steadily rising sense of despair.

“Blood and bloody ashes, woman, do you think you can parade around those leashes without anyone noticing?” Toy broke in, eyes like embers. Tuon wondered almost absently why he should care what happened to these women. They were only _damane_.

“I will house them in the wagon they are using and exercise them at night,” she replied impatiently, surprised that he couldn’t figure that out. It was the obvious solution. She didn’t appreciate him questioning her, and she liked him defending these women who should rightly be property even less. “I am nothing like these women, Toy. _Nothing_ like them. Perhaps I could learn, but I choose not to, just as I choose not to steal or commit murder. That makes all the difference.” Satisfied that he would understand now, she seated herself and focused on the _damane_ once more. “I’ve had considerable success with one woman like you,” Tuon informed them calmly. One of the women—Edesina?—gasped and murmured a name. “Yes. You must have met my Mylen in the kennels or at exercise. I will train you as well she is. You have been cursed with a dark taint, but I will teach you to have pride in the service you give the Empire.” All those Tuon trained eventually served with pride and joy. These three would be no different.

“I didn’t bring these three out of Ebou Dar so you could take them back,” Toy declared, sliding along the bed to get out from under the table. Tuon, impatient with his interruptions, reached through Tessie to hold him still, but the weaves vanished when they touched him.

“How did you…do that, Toy? The weave…melted…when it touched you.” The suddenness of it made her feel as if she had been turned inside out and shaken.

“It’s a gift, Precious,” he replied smugly. He stood, and Selucia stepped in front of him, ready to act. Her face showed her fear.

“You must not,” Selucia began, in warning.

“No!” Selucia backed away immediately at Tuon’s sharp command. Tuon didn’t believe Toy would actually harm her, and she would prefer that no one learn that Selucia was her bodyguard. Besides, she was just a little bit curious as to what he was going to do. “They have annoyed me, Toy.” She hoped that did not sound like a petulant child complaining to its mother.

Toy placed his hands on Tessie’s collar as he replied, “They annoy me, too.” He removed the collar deftly—he must have practiced at some point. The woman immediately began kissing his hand and thanking him, making Toy clearly uncomfortable.

“You’re welcome, but there’s no need for…Would you stop that? Teslyn?” He fairly jerked his hands away and turned to Joline.

“I want them to stop annoying me, Toy.” Her tone made it clear that she expected him to make sure they did.

“I think they’ll agree to that after this,” he answered dryly. Joline glared at him, so he asked, “You will agree, won’t you?”

“I do agree,” Tessie spoke quickly. “We do all agree.”

“Yes, we all agree,” Edesina added.

Joline simply stared at Toy, and he sighed. “I could let Precious keep you for a few days, until you change your mind.” Despite his words, he opened the collar. “But I won’t.”

She touched her throat and asked, “Would you like to be one of my Warders?” At the disgusted and slightly apprehensive look on Toy’s face, she laughed a little. “No need to look like that. Even if I would bond you against your will, I couldn’t so long as you have that _ter’angreal_. I agree, Master Cauthon. It may cost us out best chance to stop the Seanchan, but I will no longer bother…Precious.”

Tuon hissed at the name. Toy was allowed to call her that because it was part of the game, but this woman made it mocking and childish. Even right after giving her a lesson that ought to have at least humbled her a little, Joline was still condescending and confident. Tuon was looking forward to the day when she finally could collar the woman and train her in earnest.

The women left after that, and Toy followed with the _a’dams_ in hand, muttering about burying them. Despite being thwarted—and that had been a surprise—Tuon was impressed with his actions. He showed neither fear nor hesitation in stepping into the middle of the dispute and settling it his way, the more fool he. The strange thing was that it did turn out his way, after all. Tuon was beginning to wonder how many more surprises the man had waiting for her. She was most anxious to find out.


End file.
